Those lines that I before have writ do lie, <br />Even those that said I could not love you dearer; <br />Yet then my judgment knew no reason why <br />My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer, <br />But reckoning Time, whose millioned accidents <br />Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, <br />Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, <br />Divert strong minds to the course of alt'ring things— <br />Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny, <br />Might I not then say, "Now I love you best," <br />When I was certain o'er incertainty, <br />Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? <br /> Love is a babe; then might I not say so, <br /> To give full growth to that which still doth grow.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-115-those-lines-that-i-before-have-writ-d/
